


it's quiet uptown (you learn to live with the unimaginable)

by merthurxmalec



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers wants his best friend back, Steve/Tony if you squint, Steve/bucky if you squint really REALLY hard, Tony Stark wants his son back, based off a tumblr prompt, someone help my boys P L E A S E, spoilers for Infinity War, the serum protects Steve against genocidal alien memory plans because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 17:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurxmalec/pseuds/merthurxmalec
Summary: His name is Peter Parker. He is sixteen years old. He loves Star Wars. He is Spiderman. His best friend’s name is Ned. He has a crush on MJ. He loves Ben and Jerry’s Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice-cream. He sleeps in his Iron Man pyjamas. He has brown curly hair. His eyes are-Tony can’t remember his eyes.orIn a world post-Infinity War, Thanos' snap didn't just wipe out half the world, but erased them from existence. Tony Stark knows there is a Peter Parker, knows he has to remember a Peter Parker- but he doesn't. He can't.





	it's quiet uptown (you learn to live with the unimaginable)

**Author's Note:**

> Am I writing ANOTHER post-iw angst? Yes, yes I am. I don't want to write my essay on constitutional law, so you get to see me be angry at marvel again for the thousandth time.
> 
> Based off a tumblr prompt I saw a few days ago about the ones that survived the snap forgetting the ones who did disappear.
> 
> Not proofread, as usual. Sorry :( one of these days I'll actually read over my work.

Tony can’t remember his eyes.

 

The realisation hits him with a jolt of pain, a pain that courses through his body in every drop of the blood that is flowing through his veins. The pain is like a shot of electricity, as if the arc reactor embedded in his chest finally decided to give up on him, as if the borrowed time he had begged from Death finally ran out. He wishes that were so, that the universe finally stopped fucking with him and allowed Death to knock on his door because _he can’t remember his eyes._

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, the veins on his eyelids popping with intensity. He wills his head to remember.

_His name is Peter Parker. He is sixteen years old. He loves Star Wars. He is Spiderman. His best friend’s name is Ned. He has a crush on MJ. He loves Ben and Jerry’s Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice-cream. He sleeps in his Iron Man pyjamas. He has brown curly hair. His eyes are-_

Tony can’t remember his eyes.

 

When Steve walks into the lab, his question dies on his lips as he takes in the sight of Tony, crouched on all fours on the pristine marble floor of the workshop. Steve wastes no time getting to him, dropping to his knees as he pulls Tony’s head into his lap, his hand caressing through Tony’s brown curls.

 

“I can’t remember his eyes,” Tony says in a whisper and suddenly Steve _understands._ “I can’t remember his eyes Steve, I’m forgetting him I can’t forget him _I can’t-“_ Tony’s frantic pleading breaks as his body shakes with uncontrolled sobs.

 

“FRIDAY,” he calls out suddenly, “please pull up a picture of Peter Parker.” A picture immediately appears in front of them, of a young boy with a huge smile. His smile is partially covered by a huge cone of ice cream, the sunlight highlighting golden streaks in his brown curls. His chocolate eyes are laced with mirth, with a sense of childish boyhood and unadulterated adoration.

 

Tony holds up his head from where he had buried it into Steve’s chest, his eyes shifting restlessly over the picture. Steve could see the cogs in his brain turning as he hungrily drank up every detail in the picture, committed it to memory in fear of forgetting. He wanted to remember so badly, Steve could see- he wanted to remember every curve of the boy’s smile, every hair on his head.

 

“Brown,” Tony says finally. “His eyes are brown.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I remember it all,” Steve said to him one evening, his head still bent over the desk where he sat sketching in a corner in Tony’s lab. He smiled bitterly as his hands drew harsh lines on a piece of cream paper. Tony was a good few feet away from Steve, a physical distance they were yet to cross after all that happened, what seems like a lifetime ago now, although they had crossed the emotional abyss between them the minute Tony had landed on the ruins of Wakanda, covered in ashes and grief and memories he can’t remember anymore. But he didn’t need to be close to know that if he glanced over at the page Steve was bent protectively over, he could see the face of Steve’s childhood friend, of Steve’s _hope_ , staring back at him.

 

 

“I remember it all,” Steve repeated. “Every look, every word. Every death. Wanda. Vision. Sam. T’Challa.” Steve took a deep breath. “Bucky- I remember everyone.”

 

Tony smiled bitterly. “You’re lucky, Cap,” he said. “You know what you’re fighting for. Me? My motivation is based on my AI and everyone around me telling me to fight for a kid I don’t remember.”

 

“I know,” Steve says. “I know- and yet, I wake up every night seeing their faces as they turned to ash, and all I wish is that I could forget too.”

 

“Forgetting doesn’t stop the nightmares, Steve,” Tony says sadly. “I would know- I don’t remember his face, or even his favourite food, but I remember his voice. I remember how he sounded when he begged me to save him.”

 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says sincerely. “I wish I could have saved him.”

 

Tony says nothing for a while, lets the room fill with silence, save for the scratching of Steve’s pencil against his paper as he continues to draw the face of his dreams, and his nightmares.

 

“Can you remember him for me?” Tony asks suddenly. “Can you make sure I remember him, everyday? Remind me that there is a kid called Peter Parker, and I’m doing this for him?”

 

Steve says nothing for a while, just stares at the cream paper in front of him. Then he smiles- one of the few real smiles Tony has seen since the Avengers all moved back home.

 

“Tell me about him,” Steve says.

 

So he does.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Tony goes to visit Ned that afternoon.

 

He stands outside the school, a baseball cap hung low over his face. Ned walks out what seems like hours later, MJ trailing next to him.

“Hiya, kid,” he says as Ned passes him, lifting his cap up. Ned’s eyes go wide. “Tony Stark? What are you…?” Tony hesitates for a minute. “Just checking up on you, kid.” He pauses, trying to search Ned’s face for any understanding. “It is what Peter would have wanted.”

 

There is no recognition in Ned’s eyes. Instead, they are laced with confusion. “Peter?” he asks.

 

Tony runs away.

 

MJ shows up a while later, her mouth curved into a sad smile as her brows furrow with grief. “I still remember him,” she says, as a way of greeting. “Not much, not even a face- but I know he was there. I know he existed.”

 

She looks into his eyes suddenly, and for the first time since all the months Tony has known her he sees helplessness, and fear. “I don’t want to forget him. How do I not forget him?” her voice is demanding, as if she trusts Tony, thinks Tony can solve this problem. Tony can’t.

 

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Tony replies honestly. “I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tony woke up the next morning not remember his smile.

 

Somehow, Yinsen’s words echoed in his ears.

 

_So you’re the man who has everything, and nothing._

Tony has nothing.

 

For the second time in 24 hours, Tony found himself once more crouched down on the cold floor of his lab, his frantic breaths refusing to come under control.

 

In. Out. In. Out

_He didn’t want to go._

In. Out. In. Out.

_He didn’t want to go._

In. Out. In. Out.

 

_He was just a child, and he didn’t want to go._

He can’t breathe.

 

 

“Tony?” he said someone say- Bruce, his brain supplied, because Bruce is here, Bruce isn’t gone, he remembers Bruce, he knows how Bruce looks like when Bruce smiles, or when he is trying not to get angry- but he doesn’t remember Peter. He doesn’t remember Peter because Peter is _gone._

He can see Bruce eyeing the full bottle of bourbon that is laying discarded next to him, because Tony tried to open it but he couldn’t- he _couldn’t._

(Tony knows he has been sober- for a year if what FRIDAY tells him to be believed. He can’t remember why.)

 

It didn’t take Bruce long to figure out what is wrong.

 

“FRIDAY,” he says, not once taking his eyes off his friend, “pull up a picture of Peter Parker.” A brown-haired boy had appeared in front of him, his body draped over Tony’s on the couch. He was facing Tony, and Tony was facing him- Tony must have said something funny because the kid was laughing, his thrown back over so that his brown curls were fanned out over the cream couch.

 

Tony does not remember this day, but he can tell it was a good one.

 

“Say it, Tony,” Bruce urged quietly. “Say it until you can remember it.”

 

_His name is Peter Parker. He is sixteen years old. He loves Star Wars. He is Spiderman. His best friend’s name is Ned. He has a crush on MJ. He loves Ben and Jerry’s Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice-cream. He sleeps in his Iron Man pyjamas. He has brown curly hair. He has brown eyes.”_ Tony recited again, for the millionth time. The details meant nothing to him, the only picture he could conjure up is the one in front of him but he _needs to know_ , needs to remember that this boy, _this kid_ , existed- he needs to remember, because Tony needs to avenge him.

 

“And?” Bruce urged.

 

“And.. he is my kid.” Tony sat up straighter. “He is my kid, and I am going to get him back.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony knows, as the weight of the gauntlet pulls him down on the ground, that this it.

 

The thing is- Tony Stark’s self-sacrificial tendencies aside- he doesn’t actually want to die. Sure, often he has thought about it. Especially after Siberia, especially after the silence of an empty house that used to be a home got too unbearable, he wondered why he was even alive. He thought about how easy it would be to pull his mechanical heart out of his chest- like Obie did all those years ago- and finally give himself up to the inevitable darkness. But he knew he had his light- the light that erupted out of a kid’s smile and filled his dark world with hope. He tries conjuring up that smile now, the smile he had seen in photos Steve made sure to show him every morning because Peter Parker was his kryptonite, and he can’t forget it.

 

“Tony? Tony!” he hears Steve’s voice call, feels his head being pulled from the floor and cradled against a dark blue chest.

 

“Stay with me,” Steve whispers his warm breath close to Tony’s ears.

 

(For a minute, Tony lets himself mourn all that could have been.)

 

“Did we win?” Tony gasps out.

 

Steve smiles, “yeah, yeah we did. But you gotta get up, Shellhead,” Steve begs. “You gotta get up, please. For me. For Peter.”

 

Peter.

 

“Tell me about him,” Tony asks. “Please.”

 

Steve saw something in Tony’s eyes- he must have, because his eyes get clouded with grief as his shoulders slump.

 

He knows.

 

“His name is Peter. He is seventeen- it was his birthday last week. We cut a cake, you have presents waiting for him in his room. Some nerdy lego set I don’t understand because you say he’ll love it. He loves Star Wars, his favourite Avenger is Thor but you hate it. He cried when his favourite show, Shadowhunters, got cancelled so you tried to buy the whole channel. Pepper was made for days.” Steve blinks back tears. “He is your son.”

 

Tony smiles contentedly. “Look after him for me, yeah?”

 

“Anything for you, Tony,” he says.

 

As he closes his eyes, he hears a frantic voice shouting his name- “Mr Stark” it screams, “Mr Stark!” Tony flutters his eyes open slowly. He sees brown eyes staring back at him, wide with fear, sparkling with unshed tears.

 

_Tony can remember his eyes._

Tony’s hand shoots up involuntarily, stroking through soft curls.

 

“You did good, kid,” he hears himself say.

 

When he drifts off to oblivion, it is with the image of soft brown eyes.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, I can't seem to resist killing Tony and making Peter cry over his dead body. 
> 
> shout at me on Tumblr: starsinourinfinities


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